Homecoming (1)
Deep into the night, everyone was asleep except for the soldiers on duty.
“Have a safe trip.”
At the camp entrance, Bessimer extended his hand. Isaac reached out for a handshake, but Bessimer grabbed his arm instead.
“This is how warriors greet each other.”
“Ah, right.”
Isaac gripped Bessimer’s arm in return. It was a sign of resolve—even if the other let go first, you wouldn’t. Isaac and Bessimer exchanged glances. No words were needed.
“Captain, take good care of the boss.”
“You too. Don’t slack off with the men while we’re gone. Train ‘em proper.”
Bessimer finished his farewell with Carlson the same way, gripping arms.
“Alright then, boss.”
With that from Hans on the driver’s seat, Bessimer nodded. Hans lightly whipped the horse’s flank, and the wagon lurched into motion.
“You’re really just going like this?”
“What else?”
“If you head to the manor, anyone might not notice, but His Lordship and the steward definitely will.”
“Got no choice, do we?”
Isaac answered Carlson’s question. The horse’s snorting breaths came unevenly—whinny, whinny.
About fifty paces back, a black shadow trailed the wagon. Moonlight glinted off it briefly, revealing the form of a massive wolf. A hell wolf.
“What’re you gonna tell His Lordship? That you’ve decided to become a beast tamer?”
“The link with the wolves isn’t solid yet. If it snaps even for a second, Binvelt could see another bloodbath.”
Through the Wolf King’s rune stone, Isaac’s mind connected to the hell wolves. But how far that bond held was unknown. That’s why he’d brought the strongest after the Wolf King. Kin could sense each other across any distance—a shamanic pact they’d forged as a safeguard even before becoming hell wolves. Isaac had confirmed it in the Wolf King’s memories.
“Looks like you won’t be the manor staff’s favorite young master anymore.”
“Sharp as ever, Carlson.”
“Binvelt’s soldiers call you the demon riding a wolf.”
“I like it.”
Isaac’s leisurely response made Carlson shake his head. The wagon jolted roughly. It was a cart for goods—wooden frame draped with cloth. No cushions for passengers, so every bump jarred straight through to the rear.
“If you had to bring a wolf, at least come up with a decent excuse.”
“I did. Couldn’t stand the boredom in Binvelt, so I got a pet dog.”
“That’ll fly?”
“Why not? Keeping pet dogs is a rich noble’s hobby.”
“Hm. Do whatever. I know nothing about it.”
Carlson drew a line, avoiding the headache.
“Young master, we are coming back, right?”
Hans asked from the reins.
“What, you gonna miss Binvelt?”
“……Dunno. Maybe.”
Hans’s voice lacked conviction.
“We’ll come back. I’m the lord here, after all.”
Isaac propped his chin in the corner at the wagon’s rear. The camp’s faint lights faded into the distance. In the original history, no one survived here. When the Goethe Count arrived, only ruins remained. A place where night brought only darkness. That was Binvelt’s recorded end in his past life.
“It’s changed.”
Isaac murmured. Soldiers had survived there now. Old folks, women, children lived. They’d keep living. Thrive, even. He’d make sure of it.
Isaac thought.
Entering the Count’s direct territory brought a stark contrast to Binvelt. Paved dirt roads stretched wide, flanked by vast plains blending fields and villages. Serfs hauled tools or pulled carts. Lush grasses and nameless wildflowers swayed. Massive oaks and zelkovas dotted the horizon. Scenery that once seemed ordinary now felt abundant after Binvelt.
“Hans, drop me here.”
Carlson said as dawn broke.
“Here?”
It was a fork in the road.
“Got business in Bernsi.”
“But the young master needs an escort……”
“Ah.”
Hans trailed off, seeing Carlson nod toward the distance. Dawn made the massive wolf even more conspicuous as it watched them from about a hundred paces away, circling a deserted spot. Still, Hans’s legs went weak.
“Uh, c-couldn’t you just come all the way to the manor?”
“This is Goethe land. Patrols from His Lordship’s men pass regularly from here. And if trouble hits, that guy’s got our back.”
Carlson jerked a thumb at the wolf. Hans actually wanted Carlson there because of the wolf, but by the time he hemmed and hawed, Carlson was already off the wagon.
“See you later.”
Carlson strode toward Bernsi. No time for Hans to protest.
“Yawn.”
Isaac stretched, yawning. Sleep-deprived lately, a brief shut-eye had turned into deep slumber. He shivered in the chill dawn air, wrapped in his cloak.
“He’s heading to Bernsi?”
“Huh?”
“Carlson.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Hans brightened. With Isaac awake, he felt safer. At least the young master wouldn’t let a servant get eaten by a wolf.
“Let’s go.”
“You’re not even asking why?”
“I know why.”
Isaac eyed Carlson’s retreating figure. The Old Faith’s atrocities. Randolf, killed trying to stop them. Carlson felt guilty over Randolf’s death. His fief passed to his wife, but his family didn’t want to live in that empty place without him. So his wife and kids had settled in Bernsi’s merchant district.
“Talks about reciting revenge poems, but loves looking after people. That guy.”
Isaac muttered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
Carlson was a sentimental friend. Outwardly whatever, but that’s what Isaac had seen.
“Let’s go. I need more sleep.”
Isaac pulled his cloak to his nose and closed his eyes. Sleep didn’t come easy. Listening to outside noises, he sank into meditation.
After the wagon reached the manor.
The first servant to spot Hans recoiled at his state. Sweat-streaked face aside, the stench, ragged clothes, dark circles, and premature wrinkles made him look years older. Two-plus months of daily sun-baked training had tanned him and spotted his skin to boot.
“Hans? That you?”
“Ah, long time no see, Paul.”
Hans awkwardly greeted Paul, Yonas’s attendant.
“Didn’t you go to Binvelt with Young Master Isaac?”
“Something came up. Long story.”
“And your face? What happened? Come in, quick.”
“Paul……”
Even among servants, Paul was noble-born. Despite the status gap, his warm welcome moved Hans. The hardships felt dreamlike now. Back at the manor at last. He wanted to run see his kids. But duty first.
“Before that, I brought the young master.”
“Huh?”
“His Lordship summoned Young Master Isaac.”
“The young master? You mean Isaac?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he? I don’t see him. Coming later?”
Paul scanned but found no trace of Isaac. Naturally—the empty cart held a boy bundled in a sack-like cloak. Ash-gray hair, sharp features, blue eyes. It vaguely evoked Isaac, but wasn’t him. Taller by a handspan, more rugged and masculine. Noble features peeked through, but the grime suggested a bastard son surviving on sword-for-hire scraps.
Even so, Paul’s eyes kept drifting to the boy.
“Who’s that kid? A Binvelt soldier?”
“……Haha.”
Hans gave a troubled laugh at Paul’s question.
“You know him too, Paul.”
“Me? Haven’t left the manor in ages.”
Paul eyed the boy curiously. But that curiosity turned to shock.
“Long time no see, Paul. How’s Yonas?”
“……Young Master Isaac?”
The voice clinched it. The tone, the expression—definitely Isaac.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry, but can you house a guest?”
“……Pardon?”
“Behind you.”
Isaac pointed past Paul. Not recognizing Isaac was minor. The real issue was the beast Paul had never seen.
“L-Lord Hugbert, fr-from evil spirits, sa-save us……”
Paul whirled at the massive presence, instinctively crossing himself in prayer. But it cut off midway. He fainted, mind overwhelmed.
“P-Paul!”
Hans panicked, checking the fallen man.
“Oops. Too much to ask?”
Isaac scratched his cheek.
“He’s sweet and tame once you bond.”
Isaac hopped down and scratched the hell wolf’s cheek. It purred low, eyes closed in pleasure.
“Paul! Young master, do something!”
Hans shook him.
“Monster!”
“Guards! Guards!”
The manor garden erupted in chaos over the sudden giant beast. Guards and soldiers mobilized; servants screamed in terror. Jet-black fur, glowing red eyes, saber fangs bared in growls. The manor guards doubted they could take it. Winterband troops fought beasts daily, but these guards were hired for bandits and assassins.
“D-don’t be scared! This is Young Master Isaac! He left for Binvelt two—three months ago? And returned on His Lordship’s orders. Th-the wolf is, uh……”
“Say something, young master!”
Soon Isaac, Hans, and the wolf were surrounded by armed guards—panicked ones prone to bad calls.
“Well, uh. This guy’s my pet dog from Binvelt.”
“……”
Isaac’s excuse only worsened things.
“Hans, they don’t seem to buy it.”
“……Yeah. Like Carlson said, should’ve made a better story.”
“Ah, that guy. That’s why he bolted to Bern?”
“Not the time to admire Carlson’s judgment!”
“Hm.”
Isaac glanced at the Count’s study window. Curtains drawn. The Count always gazed at the garden from there. Curtains meant he was out.
Steward Schrader and Father are away too? Tricky.
The staff didn’t believe it was Isaac in his changed state. Words would only fuel suspicion.
Whine—the hell wolf’s ears drooped. It sensed it was causing Isaac trouble.
“State your identity! Wicked sorcerer! Or else……”
“Big brother!”
The guard captain’s warning to Isaac was cut off. A cheerful voice parted the crowd. A blond boy burst through the servants, charging at Isaac.
“Y-Yonas!”
The tutor tried to stop him, but the boy was already at the wolf’s nose.
“Gasp!”
Servants shut their eyes, holding breath. Disaster for the beloved second young master loomed vivid.
But no tragedy befell Goethe Manor’s garden.
“I’m back, Yonas.”
Isaac hugged him, ruffling his hair.